


Never Ending Cycle

by Katefkndoes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Endgame, F/M, Fix-It, Fix-it but really just makes everything worse, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Endgame, Psychological Torture, endgame spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 02:38:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20220418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katefkndoes/pseuds/Katefkndoes
Summary: Steve never makes it back to Peggy.  He is captured by Hydra in 1970 and is subjected to experiments until he finally breaks free.  However, when he finally does escape, he quickly comes into contact with people out of their time.  Are they just a figment of his imagination? Is it some kind of mind game?





	Never Ending Cycle

**Author's Note:**

> Not a very realistic representation of how people deal with psychological trauma but given what has passed previously in the MCU and the fact that I sort-of wanted a happy ending I thought I would role with it.
> 
> Also, there are some pretty horrible things implied (sometimes stated) but there isn't a lot of detail.

The room was completely black, even for a super soldier, but Steve had long since gotten used to it.

It had been daunting at first, being rendered completely blind. He had woken up in complete darkness without knowing whether it was true blindness in thin cotton scrubs. In his panic, he could hear his own heart rate increase in panic. Since the serum, he had never experienced anything like it, and there was something suffocating about it. Hell, even back in Germany, on the darkest of nights when the rest of the Howling Commandos were rendered unable to see, he had still been able to pick out details in the dark.

Not here, though.

The darkness would have been bad enough, but the silence made things worse. His ears were so used to picking out small details that the silence was almost deafening. But no, save his own bodily noises there was nothing. No hum of machinery, no sounds of animals moving. Not even the usual creaks buildings usually made.

When he had first arrived he had surveyed the room, his hand tracing around the soft walls – soundproofed he presumed. It was a small cell, of around forty-five square feet in area. There were no discerning features and no means of escape. He couldn’t even locate the entrance, since there didn’t seem to be a door. His hand traced every square inch of the walls trying to find some sort of seam but finding nothing. 

He had pushed down the rising panic within him. He was Captain America. He didn’t get scared. He just had to keep calm and wait for his moment. He spent his time doing push-ups, squats – anything he could do in the space to keep him occupied. That was until the room had become so hot that he couldn’t bear to move anymore and he found himself sitting on the floor alone with his own thoughts.

At some point he must have passed out – dehydration probably – and when he woke up he was strapped to a metal frame under lights that were so blinding to his eyes that he couldn’t see must past them. Instinctively, he struggled against the restraints, but to no avail. Whoever held him knew his strengths and were capable of incapacitating him.

“He’s awake.” Came the first voice he had heard since he had been caught.

“Excellent, begin the draw.” He felt countless needles pierce his skin simultaneously. He could literally feel the life draining from his body until he fell into unconsciousness.

He woke up back in, what he assumed, was the same black room as before, but this time it was on the cooler side. He shivered slightly, and curled up into a ball too weak to do anything else. Just as he was beginning to drift off, there was a grinding sound and a small flap opened in one corner of the room. The light that entered the room was negligible but his keen eyesight took note of the tray full of food.

It looked like they didn’t plan on starving him.

The blond understood the importance of food to his body – especially when he had been injured – and he scooted himself towards the tray. The food itself was tasteless, but every mouthful he ate he could feel fuelling his body. However, as he did, he felt the room temperature begin to drop to the point where he was shaking.

_ God, they really know all of my weaknesses _ , he thought dully. For hours he shivered, lost inside his own thoughts – back stuck on the Valkyrie – until the room began warming again.

Thus the cycle began again. The room heated and eventually he lost consciousness only to wake up again in the chair and being bled. It repeated again and again, leaving him with no idea of how long had passed. They must have been giving him time to recuperate between blood draws, because he didn’t seem to be weakening even after repeated cycles.

Eventually, he managed to gain some sort of schedule, exercising through the cold parts of the cell and resting during the hotter parts. Mind still working to try and find any way of escape, trying to hold on to Steve Rogers as everything else seemed lost.

As time went on he began to imagine people to talk to – he would hear Sam talking to him from out of the blackness, and Bucky would be there with encouragement as he lay on the table. He fantasised about Thor ripping him off the table and flying him away and of Natasha… or Tony. Maybe this was death, maybe he was stuck in his own personal hell because he couldn’t save them. He wasn’t strong enough. He cried, he screamed at the walls but not even an echo replied to him. He beat his fists bloody on the walls and lost himself in anguish.

The routine didn’t change – except the periodic experience of being hosed down with cold water and going back to a cell that smelt of damp rather than his own defecation. They shaved him too - his hair shorn short and along with his beard. He guessed they did it to keep him relatively healthy, but all it did was add to his torture, left unchecked in the filth his sense of smell would have diminished, but the “cleaning” made him ever aware of the stench. He had lost all sense of self-dignity a long time ago.

Once or twice he thought that he had managed to move against the chair restraints but when he tried again they didn’t move. He guessed that they were constantly adjusting his restraints as quickly as he could locate a weakness. He had tried to hold the feeding slot open but found that it opened until another small box that was clearly being lowered into his room – for that he received no food for two cycles and learned nothing.

The incessantness of the cycle became the only thing in his life. Steve Rogers hid himself behind a blank wall of meat. Allowed them to use his body for their own needs – poking and prodding and drawing blood and sometimes other things. The surrounding filth and grime was so ingrained in him – in his psyche – that he resisted the food they gave him in an attempt to end it all. But he had woken on that table with a nasal cannula and a Doctor who looked at him with contempt.

They wouldn’t even let him die.

-

But Steve Rogers was nothing if not stalwart and one day when he pulled against the restraints they did more than give a little. Squinting against the light in the room, he drew himself to his feet just as the alarm went off. They limited his contact with people, and as such he was in the room alone – the machines operated from an observation dock above. He looked around, trying to see a way of escape.

There was a mechanical whirling and door opened out of nowhere and four heavily armed guards ran in. He disabled them quickly, swiping one of their passes and running down the corridor - his only plan to find some form of escape. The alarm was blaring, disorientating him more than usual due to his lack of stimulus but thankfully the corridors were darker than the lab so at least he could see where he was running.

People seemed to be coming from everywhere, armed and ready to take him down. What he wouldn’t do to have his shield back. He rounded a corner into a slew of guards, but was fast enough to pull one of them towards him, effectively using him as a shield and they opened fire. He didn’t hesitate he just bowled through them. His mind was blank, his only focus was escape and he continued running his feet leading him up several flights of stairs, desperately seeking a way out.

The need to escape was all consuming. This was the moment, he wouldn’t get another chance and he sure as hell wasn’t going back to that room again. If it came to a choice of dying or returning then they were going to have to kill him. After all, they’d only be giving him what he had wanted for more cycles than he could count anyway.

On and on he ran, his escape sprinkled with the blood of the faceless guards he threw to the ground in his escape. Finally, when he was beginning to think that this was another one of his minds tricks – that this building couldn’t possibly be so large he came to a door which was not like the others. He ran his hand over it. 

Steel, and thick. Impenetrable, inescapable. The Door.

His hand found the handle and he tried it. Locked – of course – the red panel next to him had told him as much, but just for a second he had allowed himself the most foreign feeling of hope. He looked around for another escape route, but he could hear the sound of more men approaching over the found of the siren – his hearing had adapted quickly.

Without really thinking he ran at the door with all his strength. To his surprise his shoulder made contact and the door bent forward, coming off its lock and allowing his escape. The daylight was dazzlingly beautiful and the air deliciously flesh but he didn’t have the time to savour any of that. Instead his feet led him half-blindly away from his prison.

\--

“I mean, I can’t say that I’m that concerned that one more villainous lair has been destroyed? In fact, I think we should think of it as an early Christmas present.” Kate, who had never been known to keep her opinions to herself, said as Sam presented them with the facts. Bucky, managed to contain his smirk, eyeballing Natasha who was sat directly opposite him. The red-head was more schooled than he was but he still caught the look of amusement in her eye. Sam glanced at the young brunette, but managed to contain his annoyance and Bucky might have had a soft spot for the kid, but he certainly didn’t have the patience to be her commanding officer.

“Whoever…” he paused, “whatever…” He questioned, more to himself than anyone else, “did this has some serious firepower. Those guards weren’t just taken out, they were decimated. We need to know what the hell they let out of there.” Kate shrugged.

“I can see that.” She acknowledged. And that was one of the best things about the young archer – she might need to understand the reasons behind things, but once it was explained she was keen to get on with the job. In some ways she reminded Bucky of Steve at that age, too quick to run headfirst into trouble.

“I’m not exactly crying over dead Hydra agents either,” he reassured her. “But you know, cut off one head and all that… I’d rather know what fresh hell they have released on us now.” 

“What you call hell, I call Tuesday.” Natasha responded. Though her tone was her usual sartorial one, Bucky knew that she was still struggling with the after effects of the snap and all that came after. She had been since her return, and though she could hide it from the majority of people using her carefully fashioned facade he knew her better.

“Every day is such a joy around here.” Clint said with a sardonic smile, but his hand reached under the table to grasp Natasha’s in silent support. 

Deflection, Bucky reasoned, was much cheaper than therapy.

“If it’s getting to you, feel free to retire… again.” Kate responded with ease. It was a running joke among them, Clint had retired more times than any of them could count. And even though he wasn’t currently running active missions, they were grateful to have him in any capacity - he was one of the best damn handlers that they had ever seen. Clint, for his part, merely rolled his eyes in response to his prodigy’s comment.

“Well, maybe…” the archer’s comment was cut off by the sound of Shuri’s latest AI announcing that there was a call.

“Answer.” Sam ordered the computer. Shuri’s hologram appeared next to him, and Bucky was really never going to get used to that kind of technology. “Shuri, just in time, I was just briefing the data packet you set.” He said in lieu of a formal welcome.

“Yes, I have more information on that.” She said, distractedly, looking away from them, clearly towards one of her computer screens.

“Another attack?” Sam asked.

“Not exactly,” she waved her hands a couple of times before returning their attention towards them. “A scientist was attacked and left at a police station.” Bucky blinked, that wasn’t what he had been expecting.

“What’s the connection?” Natasha asked for him.

“I did a little digging,” they all knew that meant she had wound her way into the very depths of the internet – probably breaking numerous hacking laws in doing so, “and Dr Cole was a worker at the facility which was destroyed.” 

“So why leave him at a police station?” Kate remarked, and received a stern look off Clint in response. “What? If it’s connected then why drop them off at a police station?”

“Yeah, that’s why it flagged.” Shuri replied. “Dr Cole was dropped at the station with a knife in his shoulder holding a pack of evidence in place that was so complete the DA could sleep their way through the trial and still get a prosecution.”

“Oh, so our mystery assailant believes in the penal system. That’s reassuring.” Kate shot her fellow archer an annoyed look, and Bucky couldn’t help but smile. Clint was very keen for the brunette to act appropriately in team meetings, but he was hardly the best role model. 

“Hypocrite.” Kate feigned an incredibly obvious cough to cover her insult.

“I have information on another potential target.” Shuri spoke, either not hearing the two archers, or choosing to ignore them.

“When do we leave?” Natasha asked.

\--

“Wyatt Logan, thirty-two, single and listed on the staff audit Shuri sent us.” Sam explained as pulled the chair forward for Bucky to get out. Sam, Bucky thought privately, had insisted Natasha drive purely so that he would be forced to sit on the backseat with his knees squished to his chest. Some things would never change, however close they got. 

“I’ll park the car and meet you up there.” Natasha answered, as Bucky tested feeling in his legs. The red-head shot him a vaguely amused look in response. Maybe there was a reason Sam enjoyed puerile jokes.

“So what’s the plan? We just walk up there, knock on the door and see how he’s feeling?” Bucky questioned. (Some people  _ might _ have suggested that he had spent too much time around the likes of Scott and Clint, but really, Bucky had always been a little bit of a shit.)

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.” Sam responded, as the front window of Logan’s house was smashed and a body came flying through out onto the grass.

“Well, shit.” Bucky muttered.

“You take the back I’ll get the front.”

\--

There was a single-minded focus to his mission. No one was ever going to be put through what he had. In his time in captivity, he had listened to every word that had been said and people could be careless with their names. It hadn’t been particularly challenging to track down Dr Cole, and Logan wasn’t much harder – although the evidence on him was, perhaps, not as compelling.

“What the fuck?” He middle-aged man swore as Steve stepped out from the shadows of his lounge. “How are you here?” He grunted in response, too long without speech had robbed him of the urge to answer questions demanded of him. Instead, he stood there, an imposing figure in what should have been a safe space. “Answer me, you freak.” The man spat, his hand already on the phone in his pocket – no doubt calling more of them to him.

A part of him wanted that. What was another few men? His hands were already bloodied. In the moments when he allowed himself to contemplate all that had happened he wondered what became of the good man Erskine had seen in him.

Covering the ground between them in two large strides he threw the other man bodily through the large window. Distantly, he wondered whether such things had ever seemed so easy. There was a fog in his head that he couldn’t quite clear, it was unfamiliar, and dulled his mind, while leaving his senses unhindered. So much about Steve Rogers was lost, but his body was built as a weapon and t _ hat _ they couldn’t take from him.

One look out of the window told him that Logan was out cold – and likely would be for a while – but his enhanced hearing alerted him to the presence of others in the house. He vaulted over the window sill and out into the front yard just as a man entered the room.

There had been enough violence for the day, he had decided and he didn’t trust himself not to hurt someone more than he should in a fight. The careful control he had one had over his abilities was lost in the fog. Flashes of his escape haunted him as though it wasn’t him destroying those guards – and all the good that he remembered seemed as a dream. He shook his head, trying to push the thoughts out of his head. He worked better when his mind was blank, empty.

“Steve?” The voice from the house drew him out of his thoughts, it sounded so familiar…but all that was over. The seconds ticked by and he slowly turned to face the voice.

“Uh…” he grunted. It looked like Sam, sounded like him too but they weren’t… it couldn’t be. A sound to his left alerted him to another figure and he turned to see Bucky. 

“Oh my God Steve.” Sam held up hand and the brunette stalled in his progress towards him. Steve looked between the two of them. It was some sort of trick, it couldn’t be true. It wasn’t right… it wasn’t their time he couldn’t focus. 

Was this whole thing a set up? He should have known it felt too easy. The escape, the door, he should have known they would never let him go. Or was everything all in his mind? Was he really that far gone? He couldn’t take anymore. There was a small gasp at his six-o-clock and once glance behind him sealed his resolution.

“Nat- Natasha.” His voice sounded rough, even to his own ears. 

A cacophony of feelings swelled through him, but one remained above all overs. Anger. How dare they do this to him? How dare they let him think he had escaped? How dare they use her memory to get to him? And Bucky, was this what they did to him? Was this how they weaponised him? Mind games and insanity.

Not-Bucky moved towards him. Steve caught his arm and swung him towards Not-Sam. They fell in a tangle of limbs right next to Logan, fighting to pull themselves into a standing position. He felt more than heard Not-Natasha move behind him and turned to grab her by the throat one handed, she swung her legs backwards and then used the momentum to kick at his stomach. The real Natasha – his Natasha – had used that same manoeuvre against him successfully several times in their sparring sessions, but Not-Natasha didn’t have the same strength and the hit barely winded him. In her eyes - a perfect copy of the kind ones he remembered - he registered panic and he threw her to the ground.

He turned to face the three figures – figments of his imagination? Hydra soldiers? He didn’t know anymore. He growled at them, feeling his muscles flex as he did, unable to contain the anger. 

“Leave me alone.” He warned and the three exchanged a glance.

With that he turned to leave. There was just enough of the man who remained of who he once was to not want to hurt anyone else but if he gave them a chance to attack he might not be able to stop himself.

\--

“What in the everloving fuck just happened?” Bucky barked out. “What the hell was that thing?” Shaven headed and looking dirtier than Bucky had ever seen him, but it sure as hell looked like his friend.

“I, uh, think it was Steve.” Sam replied, oddly calm, which was just perfect because Bucky was about to claw his own face off in raw emotion.

“No, see because  _ Steve _ is dead. We know that, we know what happened. He went back and he had his life and that’s fine.” How many times had he told himself that it was fine? “So what the fuck is that thing doing wearing his face?” He dragged a hand through his hair. He had started wearing it shorter again and the action didn’t offer the same relaxation that it once had.

“James,” the red-head touched his arm, trying to calm him down. “I, uh,” there were tears in her eyes. 

“We need to kill it.” Bucky spat. “I…” he was shaking despite Natasha’s closeness. Of all the things that had happened since the Snappening this was the very worst.

“You know I had the same conversation with him about you.” Sam was breathing heavily, and he spoke cautiously.

“No you didn’t. That thing isn’t Steve. And it needs to die.” He snapped back. It was an instant, a moment, but the hurt registered in the other man’s eyes and Bucky felt guilty almost instantly. He sighed. “I’m sorry… I just…” he let out a sigh.

“If it’s Steve...” Sam trailed off in understanding, touching Bucky’s shoulder and drawing their heads together to comfort. “Even if there is just a chance.”

\--

“I cannot find anything definite.” Shuri’s hologram announced. “There are references to a subject, but there is very little information. I am running a data mine at the moment to see what I can find of use.” She once again focused on something her end, her eyes clearly reading information off her screen quickly.

“So it is him?” Sam asked, his voice sounding oddly thin, to Bucky’s ears. In any other situation, he would have tried to offer the other man comfort but given what they had seen Bucky had to focus on managing his own emotions.

“I cannot say.” The young Wakandan replied, patiently. “I am still searching.”

“It can’t be. You were there Sam, you saw him come back. He – he told me what he was going to do. There is no way.” Bucky continued to pace around the room, unable to dispense of the stressed energy. “Bruce was there, he saw it too. There is no way.” Sam look told him that he understood Bucky’s need to believe that it wasn’t Steve. He usually understood Bucky. While he alone had been privy to the erstwhile Captain’s intentions when he went to return the Infinity Stones, Sam didn’t take it personally. He even understood the bond that the two soldiers shared.

“The subject references go back many years. It is possible-” Shuri spoke calmly her voice carefully measured and full of compassion, she was used to dealing with Bucky - she had been there through some of his most trying times. But this was different - this was Steve.

“No, Shuri it isn’t. I refuse to let it be.” The nails of his flesh hand scratched his face as he pulled his hand from his hair, serving to remind him that this was reality.

“James, just look at what has happened. Look at me? I came back.” Natasha said quietly from her position on the table. And really, hadn’t that been something, when Natasha had suddenly appeared six months after the end, confused but physically fine. She had been a lot quieter since then, even harder to read than she had been before but Bucky knew she had to be struggling with this as much as he was – as much as they all were.

“That’s not the same,” Bucky replied, carelessly. “You didn’t make that choice.”

“Yes I did,” she confirmed, shooting a look at Clint. It was still a source of friction in their relationship. The archer still felt guilty despite the fact that it had very much been her choice to sacrifice herself. Bucky sighed. He didn’t want to upset anyone. He didn’t own the right to be more pissed at the world than anyone else.

“I can’t – he doesn’t – it could have been years – I… not like me.” He was stuttering over his words, but he didn’t care. He had been holding back a wall of emotion – admittedly not very successfully – and now it was crumbling. “If it’s him and he – he didn’t go back – I… I failed him.” Natasha understood – they all did, really – but this was his weight to bear. He tears were rolling silently down his face and he could feel his heart fluttering in his chest.

Sam reached him first, and he collapsed into the other man’s embrace. It was ironic, Bucky supposed, Sam held the mantle of Captain America and Bucky relied on him just as much has he had Steve – more in many ways.

“It’s not your fault.” The younger man soothed, and Kate snorted and muttered something to Clint about someone named Robin. It didn’t bother Bucky, instead he just tried to hide his tears in Sam’s shoulder. 

“I still stay it could be a trick,” Kate said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “We’ve all seen those photoskins – hell, most of us have used them at some point – it would be really easy to make someone look like him.” The archer – being the only one in the room never to have met Steve – was a lone voice of nonchalance.

“No,” Natasha shook her head. “It wasn’t that, they’d make him look perfect. He looked…” she bit her lip, “… dangerous.” She had been carefully silent on her opinions on the journey back to base and now Bucky understood why. Steve and Natasha had always shared a particularly close relationship, more than once Bucky had wondered whether there was something more than friendship there. And when Steve told him of his decision to be with Peggy, the former-assassin couldn’t help but wonder whether that was because being with Natasha was no longer an option for him. To hear her call him dangerous was a kick in the pants.

“Oh even better, we could be dealing with a dangerous super soldier – perfect.” Kate replied, throwing her hands in the air.

“Kate, enough.” Clint said sternly. “I appreciate that you didn’t know Steve but if it’s him…” the archer stopped, his voice cracking slightly, and Kate nodded once, comprehending the severity of the situation. Bucky let go of Sam and smiled gratefully at the older archer, they were team, always had been and always would be.

“I believe I have some information.” Shuri’s voice roused them from their discussion. “The subject was first referenced in the early seventies, I have located a photo but the file is corrupted. Running a clean-up now.” Next to Shuri appeared a holographic picture, it kept refreshing vertically, more details becoming clearer each time it did. Bucky squinted at the photo, as though that would accelerate the process, and he felt his heart rate tick up a gear. In those seconds he didn’t know what he wanted. If it was Steve then it meant that he was back… but after so many years… what was going to be left of his friend? If it wasn’t then there was something their wearing his friend’s face and insulting his memory.

The room was completely silent as the picture cleared to reveal a heavily beaten Steve. His hair had already been shaven and his jaw was covered in a thick beard, but even with one eye swollen shut Bucky would have recognised his best friend anywhere. He felt the vomit rising in his throat as the realisation hit him.

“Well, shit. You guys have absolutely no luck.” Was the last thing Bucky heard as he ran out of the room.

** **

\--

His mind worked on a practical level –survival was his goal. Stealing things had never come particularly easily to him, but necessity was the mother of all evil and he had picked up some basic supplies from the local Target. If the security guard had seen him take what he needed, then he sure as hell couldn’t keep up with him long enough to cause Steve any concern. He ran for what seemed like a decent amount of time, before arriving at a relatively deserted service station. He spent a few moments – maybe hours he really couldn’t tell anymore – looking at himself in the dirty mirror of the dilapidated washroom, a solitary strip light blinking in the background.

A stranger stared back at him.

He hadn’t slept since he escaped, which was pushing four days. Partly because he had been so preoccupied with his self-imposed mission, but mostly because he still hadn’t managed to convince himself that it wasn’t some sort of dream or hallucination. As such his eyes were underscored by dark bags, and his once-vivid blue eyes seemed stultified. A thick hand raised to his close-shaven hair and he felt the short bristles under his fingers. Knowing that they had shaved it didn’t detract from how different it made him look, his head looking rounder than he was used to, and his eyes looking somehow bigger. His hand traced the two lines which had formed between his eyebrows.

Allowing himself to look down, he took in the ragged scrubs which had been his constant attire since his capture. Mechanically opening drawing his bag of stolen merchandise, he pulled out some soap and a towel. Swiftly, he ripped off his thin shirt, pleased to note that the combination of his self-imposed work out cycle and the serum had left his body looking still powerful and toned, and began to clean himself up.

By the time he had finished and looked in the mirror again he was beginning to see something of the man he used to be. His skin was pale underneath the dirt, but the blond was visible at the ends of his shorn hair. The t-shirt and zip-through sweater he had procured were tighter across his shoulders than he would have thought but not so much that they looked like they didn’t belong on him, or would draw any undue attention.

If only fixing his brain was as easy as fixing his appearance.

He had thought he was beginning to get some sort of a handle on reality, or at least his new reality. The fog clouding his thoughts was still ever present but was beginning to dissipate – or at least he felt like it was – but he had seen them so maybe it was just transforming a delusion. He had been certain they shouldn’t be there, it wasn’t their time, and they didn’t belong. The last thing he remembered he had been returning the stones and he had been working backwards… working towards Peggy. So they couldn’t be here, because he hadn’t intended to go back.

And even if that hadn’t been enough to convince him that something was wrong then seeing Natasha had pushed him over the edge. He had lost her. That was one thing he was certain of, it was an ache that had been etched in his soul long before he had been taken. So, so seeing her again had been enough to shatter the illusion and open up a whole other nest of doubts and confusion. Seeing Sam and Bucky would mean that he wasn’t  _ when _ he thought he was, but seeing Natasha meant it was more likely that he was trapped inside a figment of his own imagination – finally succumbing to the mental torture – or that they were playing some sort of new sick mind game on him. Neither one of those options were particularly appealing.

However, after the incident he looked at the world with new eyes. The cars were wrong – the clothes – even the buildings were should have told him that things were amiss. If he had been paying attention when he began his mission he would have realised that everything was wrong, but he had been so hyper-focused that it had passed him by. The worm crawled in his brain, telling him that maybe he wasn’t when he thought he was and he caught a sob before it could escape. If he was really still in the future then he couldn’t count on anything that had happened to him being real.

Had they really travelled in time? Had the snap happened? Was Tony alive? Was Natasha? He could feel his body shaking. Was everything some sort of a lie? Honestly, he didn’t really know what he could trust anymore. Whether or not that makes it more or less likely to be some sort of fever dream or a ploy by Hydra he wasn’t sure – wasn’t even sure he wanted to know.

But Natasha – seeing Natasha hurt more than anything they have done to him up until that point.

And whether or not he was of sound mind, Hydra were going to pay.

-

“I have the name of another potential target.” Shuri informed them. It had been a night of restless sleep for all of them – even the young Wakandan if the slight glaze to her eyes was any indication. Natasha had barely closed her eyes, had barely even tried to get any sleep. Clint had come to sit with her for a while, but even he had given up after a while, there was nothing he could say to make it any better. Bucky had ensconced himself in his room, and while she knew that she could speak to him – that she alone understood what he was going through – she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

From the moment she had seen him there had been no doubt that it was Steve before her. A little older – maybe – a little dirtier – definitely – but she would have known those eyes anywhere. And yet he had looked at her, looked right through her. He had held so tightly that if she wasn’t enhanced he might have broken her neck. 

Thrown her away as though she was nothing.

The action hurt more than the physical pain.

On screen Shuri was informing them of the details, a picture of a woman appeared on the screen. Despite her descent into her own thoughts, Natasha’s training was so ingrained in her psyche that she registered that the woman was in her late fifties and judging by the white jacket she wore, she was some sort of Doctor. As if a Doctor would treat someone like an animal.

“Well clearly, I’m the one best suited for this.” Kate’s voice cut her from her reverie. The child didn’t understand, couldn’t know how strong he was – didn’t understand that it wasn’t even just physical.

“Kate…” Sam started, his arm instinctively reaching out to put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Hand to hand it has to be me.” Bucky was right, and Natasha instinctively knew that had always been the problem. The last time the two Super Soldiers had thought it hadn’t ended well.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” The young archer bit back. “Out of everyone in this room, I am the only one who isn’t compromised.”

“It’s not that simple.” Clint spoke, reasonably. “If he’s as – as-“ he floundered struggling to find the words.

“Vacant.” Natasha filled in for him.

“If he is,” Clint continued, looking at the young brunette with caring eyes, “it’s the equivalent of going head to head with a locomotive that’s had its brakes cut.” Opposite her, Bucky closed his eyes. 

Captain America was an indomitable force of strength and goodness. And while Sam had done amazing well taking on the mantle and had earned – often grudgingly – the respect of the nations around the world, he was just a man. Steve… well, Natasha had heard about the final battle, he had evolved past that. To have that raw power led without conscious was terrifying.

“I don’t plan on getting that close.” Kate responded. “If it’s a choice between someone getting hurt and taking him down, I won’t hesitate.”

“She’s right.” Natasha agreed. “Out of all of us she’s the only one who won’t.” And God, that hurt her to say.

“Well, I don’t plan on letting it get that far.” Sam said, firmly and Kate opened her mouth to speak but he continued. “But if it gets there then it’s on you.” The pain registered in Bucky’s eyes – betrayal almost – but he didn’t argue. The Captain looked at Natasha and she nodded once, she knew how hard this was – for everyone.

But she also knew there was no way any of them would let it get that far.

\--

Any element of surprise had managed to escape them, Steve seemed aware of their presence before they had managed to collate each other’s positions, so the plan fell apart at the first hurdle. For two days they had scoped out the Doctor’s house, waiting for him to arrive – all while Bucky strewed over the fact that he wanted to go and rip the woman’s face off for hurting Steve. By the time he did arrive, they were so prepared that it almost worked against them.

It was obvious the moment he glanced over the road and saw the black SUV that he had spotted them. Really, they should have known better, that Steve would scope them out faster than anyone. However, there were only so many vehicles at their disposal and it wasn’t as though the neighbourhood wasn’t packed full of black SUVs – typical upscale suburbia. Without giving himself a moment to think Bucky was jumping out of the vehicle to face Steve. In the time since they had last seen him, he’d had time to tidy up his appearance, but his eyes still worn the same blank expression.

“Steve… you have to listen to me.”

“What is this?” Steve replied, his voice sounding rough through misuse.

“I… just come with us… we can help.” He tried again, hearing Sam exit the car behind him. He didn’t have to look to know that Clint was following the interaction from a room in the vacant house two doors down.

“Steve… please just come with us.” Sam said carefully.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked. “What do you want from me?”

“We just want to help you.” Sam tried again, and Steve’s face contorted into something that resembled a sneer. Bucky took a step towards his friend, raising his hands in the universal sign of disarmament but Steve merely widened his legs into more of a defensive stance.

“Steve…” Natasha’s voice floated out from behind him. They had all agreed that she would not engage but as it turned out she did have a human side under the cold mask she had been wearing more often since the War for the Ashes. Steve’s eyes darted straight towards the younger woman.

“You’re – you can’t…” there were tears in his eyes, he made an almost inhuman sound which hurt to hear and in a flash he was on Bucky. The brunet barely had chance to react before he was punched in the face – hard – and sent flying to the floor. Sam tried to assist, immediately launching himself across the car and turning in the air to kick Steve in the chest. Unfortunately for Sam, the blond caught his leg and twisted. Sam spiralled ungraciously to the floor, but not before sending the shield smacking into Steve’s shoulder. It was deflected with a bat of his arm, and he turned to where Natasha had been.

Natasha, Bucky was pleased to see, had disappeared from said spot and the opening gave both him and Sam a chance to pick themselves up from the ground. Bucky reached the shield first, sending in flying into Steve’s back and the younger man stumbled forward before turning to face the two men. Sam – who had picked up the shield – launched himself back into the air. That left Steve’s attention planted firmly on him. They fought viciously, both struggling for purchase on each other – vying for power. Whatever had happened to Steve had certainly not impacted his ability to fight.

There was a flash of red to his right and before Bucky had registered Natasha had sprung herself from the top of the SUV onto Steve’s shoulder. Her trademark move caught the blond unaware and he was momentarily distracted. Bucky used that moment to try and sweep Steve’s legs from under him. Somehow, the super soldier managed to pull Natasha’s legs apart and duck out of them, sending her careening into Sam, who had been approaching from the rear.

The blood pounded in his ears and he looked up at his former friend. This was the moment they lost him. If he could really hurt them, then… maybe Bucky deserved it. He glanced across at Natasha who was trying to extricate herself from Sam. 

Without warning Steve, dropped to his knees. Bucky hadn’t seen where the arrow came from, but he was damn sure that it was down to Clint and not Kate. It was designed to incapacitate and not seriously injure. There was a flash of purple and then everything happened together, Sam managed to pull himself up from his tangle and both him and Natasha grabbed an arm as Kate aimed an arrow straight at Steve’s eye.

“Somehow, I don’t think even you could survive an arrow through the eye.”

\--

The magnetic cuffs they had used to restrain him on the journey back to base had served their purpose well and Steve hasn’t against them. Hell, he had barely even flinched when Sam had dug the arrow out of his leg, and Clint had done his best attempt at field triage. Back at the compound they had also restrained his legs against a metal seat which they had bolted to the floor. Natasha was all too aware of where that particular idea had come from, and Bucky looked nauseous at seeing his best friend restrained so horrifically.

“Steve, I know it’s hard but you have to believe us. It’s really us.” Steve looked between them, his face carefully neutral. Sam had done his level best to try and explain how they had received a visit from what they had believed was his older self to let them know that he had chosen to stay behind. That the other-Steve or not-Steve, they still weren’t sure, had passed away not long after and that they had tried to move on.

“If we had known… if we realised… he would have come for you.” Bucky attempted. Jesus, if she could have protected him from this she would have. The Winter Soldier had been through enough, and given the similarity of their situations. 

“You were being held by Hydra, but now you’re free. You’re with friends… and we’re here to help you.” Sam moved towards Steve, and the blond tracked him with his eyes. “It’s never easy coming back, but – but you’ve done the hard bit and we’re going to be here every step of the way.”

“You know…” Steve answered after a moment, his voice coming out low and dangerous “… I want – I could almost believe you. I guess that’s the point… but you should have done your homework. Nat – Natasha is… she’s gone.” For the first time since they had entered the room he glanced over at her, but he turned to look Sam dead in the eye as he said it. The red-head felt her stomach drop, he looked more broken than he had been before.

“Steve…” She stepped forward, getting closer to him than either of the two men had done. Slowly, she moved her hand to touch his shoulder – to draw his attention to her. He followed her lead, and there was a flash of pain in those impossibly blue orbs before he shut his eyes.

“Please don’t…” He said softly – sounding more like a broken child than she had ever heard him. “I don’t think I can…” He opened his eyes and she smiled gently at him, incredibly aware of the tears that were threatening to fall. He shook his head slightly, as though he could shake them away.

“Steve, it’s me. I – I came back.” She calmly explained how one moment she had jumped from the top of a mountain and the next she woken up in a pool of water on Vormir with no idea how she had got there. She had used the suit to get her back but had arrived six months late. “It didn’t feel real to me either.” She explained, seeing Sam bend his head out of the corner of her eye. In all the time since she had returned she had never spoken so openly about her experiences. “People were back from the dead, Tony was gone and I…” she paused, taking a stilted breath and holding back her own tears, “… I went to your funeral.” She leaned her forehead against his that they were breathing the same air. “I – we thought we lost you.” She said, allowing the tears she had held back to finally flow.

She had once said that love was for children. But Steve… Steve was her family, her friend, her everything really. The rest of the world was moving on by the time she returned but she had nothing to move on to… not really. All that wasted time after the snap tortured her dreams even now. She pulled back from him, the lights made the tear tracks on his pale face glisten in an ethereal silver but his eyes practically drowned her with affection – love.

Gradually, so as not to alarm him, she moved her hand to his face. The pad of her thumb wiped the tear off his cheek on its first attempt, but she allowed the digit to repeat the action in a comforting manner when he leaned into the touch. “God, Steve… what did they do to you?”

“I…” he faltered, his eyes looking past her towards Bucky. Natasha understood why, Steve Rogers would always want to protect his friend. One glance back to Bucky told her everything she needed to know. The brunet was as white as a sheet and she could see the slight tremor in his flesh wrist. It wouldn’t do him any good to watch this.

“Fellas... could you leave us for a moment.” She asked some of the tension seemed to dissipate from the air surrounding the blond super soldier as she did. Sam looked for a moment like he was going to argue – as if leaving her with a chained up potential assailant was the worst situation she had ever found herself in. “We’ll be alright.” She confirmed, her thumb still brushing against the slight stubble on Steve’s face.

Sam nodded – and she loved Sam, he never questioned her, he listened to her and gave her what she needed. In that moment what she needed was for Sam to take care of Bucky, so that she could take care of Steve.

\--

“I still don’t trust him. People don’t just come back from things like that. It’s not like you can wave a magic wand and everything is fixed. That’s not the real world.” Kate, ever generous with her opinions, stated. 

“Well, I’d be walking talking evidence against that theory.” Bucky muttered. He really did like the kid, but she really was just a kid in many ways. He understood her unwillingness to believe, he really did but it was born of the fact that she didn’t know Steve. She didn’t understand what he had already been through, what he was capable of. Hell, even Mjolnir had seen how worthy he was. If anyone was going to come through this it was going to be Steve. Bucky was weak in comparison and up until recent events he had been doing a particularly good job of coming through.

“It’s not the same. You had time… you had Shuri.” Kate replied.

“So does he.” Bucky snapped back. “I’m not expecting him to be perfect. I know this is going to be difficult – believe me I know – but we can’t keep him chained up like that.”

“So then get Shuri to check him out.” Kate said, fairly. And really, from the mouths of babes and all that. The youngster looked at him with eyes too young to have seen what they had. “I’m not saying that we don’t deserve a win here, but…” she sighed, “…you’re basically my family and I can’t see any of you get hurt.” Bucky smiled softly, and Clint put an arm around the teenager.

“We’ll get Shuri.” Bucky confirmed. “She loves fixing up white boys.” He allowed himself a small grin. If they could do this – if they could even get some part of Steve back it would be worth it.

\--

“DNA analysis confirms that it is Steve.” Shuri confirmed, as though anyone who had ever met him was in any doubt of that fact at the moment. “His brain shows no sign of programming,” Shuri stood before them, pointing and a 3D stand of Steve’s brain. Bucky let out a breath that he didn’t even realise he had been holding, and Sam shot him an encouraging smile. “This is the first scan,” Shuri waved her hand and the image changed. “These dark blue areas here represent the latent damage to his brain, as far as I can tell this happened years ago.” 

“So- uh – what does that mean? Because where I’m from brain damage is not something to be dismissed.” Clint replied, and Bucky gripped the arm of the chair so hard that he felt the metal contract under his Vibranium fingers.

“This is the second scan,” the Princess waved her hand and the imaged changed again, this time some of the dark blue areas appeared to be more of purple. “As you can see this damage appears to be self-healing.” Bucky stated at the screen.

“You’re kidding me.” Clint sounded positively gleeful.

“I am not. That serum is really something.” She sounded impressed – and really given the scientific discoveries she had made that was and odd tone to hear on her. “He should recover his memories – but…” she sighed. “It is likely to be a painful experience for him, and he is likely to suffer greatly.” She said sadly. “I can use similar methods to those which helped you, but it will take some time before he recovers.”

“And what do we do in the meantime?” Kate asked, her hands dug into her pockets. “We just let him go? Can’t say that fills me with confidence.”

“I’m not saying bring him back into the team or anything,” Sam responded, “but he needs our help. He hasn’t been programmed… he’s just Steve.”

“An unstable jacked up super soldier…”

“I will arrange with my brother to give him a home in Wakanda, we will monitor his progress closely.” This seemed to mollify the youngster. “My brother wanted to be here, but unfortunately he was expected at the UN.” She explained to Sam, “he will be more than willing to help.”

“So what? We just ship him off to Wakanda alone like he’s someone else’s problem?” Bucky snapped.

“I seem to recall it worked pretty well for you.” Clint commented and Sam shot the older archer his best Captain-America-Disapproves look. “What? Come on Sam, I’m just saying what everyone in this room is thinking. I’m glad he’s back, I want to help him, but Kate has a point.”

\--

The discussion continued for almost twenty minutes, while Natasha was sat on the arm of his chair – he refused to think about it as what it really was – a containment device. Shuri was right, the fog in his head as beginning to lift, but with it came a deeper sense of dread. He knew what was waiting for him at the end – he knew he would remember all they did to him.

“If they asked me I would have told them I want to go.” Steve said after a moment, and Natasha looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “They’re not exactly being quiet.” He responded. “Don’t pretend you can’t hear them.” He added, and she smiled at him. Smiled that beautiful smile he had once taken for granted.

“Do you want me to make them stop?” She asked him.

“I don’t – I can’t…” he started. It wasn’t fair of him at all, but the moment she had started talking to him, things seemed to be so much clearer. Although he wanted to believe that things were as they seemed – and he was believing it more and more by the second – there was still the tingling sensation crawling under his skin that he was going to wake up back in his cell. Thankfully, Natasha seemed to understand what he meant, and she ran her hand gently across his shaven head.

“I don’t think I want to leave you.” She said. And he was so grateful to her, she had not left his side since he had explained what he had been through. He had choked over the words, and almost vomited over her in a wave of grief when he explained just how long it must have been. But she was resolute and had allowed him to lay out his burdens for her to see. She didn’t judge, she was a soothing presence, and balm for his aching heart.

“You don’t have to say that.” He said. His voice was beginning to sound more like his own, as he continued to use it, but there was still an unnatural rasp to it.

“Steve, look at me.” She put her hand under his chin and guided his face to look at her. “I love you.” She said simply. “And that doesn’t have to mean anything else right now except that I am going to be here for you.”

“Nat… you know I…” he wanted to say it. He wanted to say he loved her too. Hadn’t she been the one thing he had managed to keep from them. The one person he focused on when he craved human company during the cycles.

“I know.” She said, serenely, drawing their foreheads together and looping her arms around his neck. If – when – they un-cuffed him the first thing he was going to do was give her the hug they both desired.

“They’re coming.” He said after a moment, and Natasha turned away from him, still sat on the arm of his chair, to face the door. Bucky entered first, looking incredibly sheepish – like he had when he had stolen Joanna Beth’s blanket off the balcony to keep Steve warm during one of his many bouts of pneumonia.

“How much of that did you hear?” As the rest of the team followed him into the room. Steve merely looked at him, for a beat, before he replied.

“Enough.” He acknowledged.

“Well, I don’t care. I’d rather not release a potentially deranged Super Soldier on Manhattan. You are too quick to forget that he could have killed us.” Either it was his imagination – still possible – or the Avengers team members were getting younger and younger.

“To be fair, most of us have tried to kill each other at some point.” Clint responded before anyone else could, and Sam shot him a withering look. Steve looked at Natasha for explanation but she shook her head. Clearly he had missed a lot.

“I wouldn’t have killed you.” He was pretty sure that was the truth, that arrow wasn’t really enough drop him to his knees, and hurting his friend’s hadn’t felt right.

“Well, excuse me for not jumping to believe you.” The young brunette crossed her arms and looked at him with a challenging glare.

“Kid, if I wanted you dead we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” With that he nudged Natasha off the arm of his restraint and used the extra space to lean back in the chair and force the restraints off his ankles so that he could stand up. Kate already had her bow pointed towards him as he yanked the wrist cuffs apart. A silent tension filled the room but he made no attempt to move.

“Banner had a theory that the serum would continue to progressively alter his DNA…” Shuri said after uncomfortably long moment. “That seems academic, now.” He briefly looked down at his hands. He had tested the restraints the moment they had them on him, but he was surprised at how easily they had come apart.

“You know what the most annoying that about that is?” The young archer spoke as she hooked her bow back to her back. “You let me think I’d beaten you.” She huffed, looking more like a teenager than Steve had ever seen her. Despite the situation, he allowed himself a small smile and nodded.

“But, I think you’re right, I think I need to go to Wakanda.” He didn’t miss the hurt look he received from Bucky. “Just until I’ve got a better handle on things.”

\--

It took almost a month for Bucky to go to Wakanda. A selfish part of himself didn’t want to visit Steve – not when according to Natasha, the blond had been suffering with the overwhelming nature of his memories. The whole situation hit a little close to home. He couldn’t think of a crueller punishment for anyone than to be imprisoned like that – he understood exactly what that did to a person. How empty it left them feeling.

So rather than visiting Steve, he had worked tirelessly until those responsible had been brought to justice – one way or another. The Winter Soldier cared a little bit less about the course of justice than Bucky or Steve. Thus, he tried to work through his own guilt in what Sam called an unhealthy way.

Eventually, though, he ran out of excuses, and he found himself standing outside Steve small cabin. Knocking the door took more strength than anything he had done in his life up until that moment. The blond opened the door, his hair having grown out, his skin tanned and the dark smudges under his eyes dissipated. Steve looked good - a little older than he had done but strong and healthy. The paragon of humanity into which he had been made.

“Buck,” he said with a warm smile and drew him in for a hug.

They had barely made it through the door and to the sofa before he was blurting out his feelings.

“I thought you were going back to Peggy. You told me that was the plan… and then you came back and you…” he couldn’t bring himself to say died. “I didn’t even think to come looking for you.” Steve looked at him for a long moment.

“I don’t blame you – and you shouldn’t either – they gave you what you expected. And I… I guess I made it easy for them.” He paused, taking a breath. “But I can’t blame myself.” He’d had countless conversations about that since he had arrived in Wakanda, Bucky knew, and he maybe he was starting to believe it.

** **

“You could still go back.” Bucky said after a beat, changing the subject quickly. They had never been especially loquacious and the weight of their emotions could be conveyed unsaid.

“I don’t think that was ever really an opinion.” The former Captain admitted.

“Well, I know I’m not the only one who will be glad to hear that.” He gestured to where Natasha was working on the small garden situated at the back of the cottage. Steve gave him a fond smile.

** **

“We’re working on it.” He admitted, and Bucky leaned into his friend.

** **

“Good for you, man.” And it was, he couldn’t think of two people who deserved a bit of happiness more.

** **

“It’s - we - it’s more of a promise at the moment.” He said. “I need to - uh -  _ process _ more before I can think like that.” The way he said process made Bucky think that was someone else’s word rather than Steve’s, and for some reason Bucky assumed that a healers rather than Natasha’s. “So you and Sam, uh?” Steve asked after a prolonged pause.

“How did you…” Bucky began, but Steve cocked an eyebrow.

“James Buchanan Barnes, I have known you since we were both in short pants how did you think you could hide something like that from me?” He said incredulously. And really, this, Bucky could deal with. Healthy-ish, and happy Steve.

“Natasha tell you?”

“She confirmed.” He said with a small laugh.

** **

In that moment, they were just two friends sitting on a sofa, and laughing about trivial matters. But it was everything Bucky had wanted since their time back in Brooklyn over eighty years before. They may have grown, and changed in many ways, but they remained the same in essentials and Bucky wondered why he had delayed his visit. Why he hadn’t allowed himself this moment of happiness.

“Stevie…” He said after a moment.

“Buck.” The blond replied, in an almost melodic tone.

“Punk.” He said with a small smile.

“Jerk.” Steve responded with ease, leaning back so that their shoulders were touching on the small couch.

****  
  



End file.
